The Trickster: Archangel of Gold
by Civilized Muppets
Summary: "A hero is only as good as his villain. You should know this better than anyone." Contrary to popular belief, heaven isn't full on sunshine and roses, more betrayal and the blood of brothers. No one knows that better than Gabriel, except maybe Lucifer. 3000 years after he left the pearly gates for good (though not by choice), the cage is opened. Dad must be laughing his ass off.
1. Chapter 1

The golden halls of the Asgardian Palace were always silent this time of night. Any sane Aesir had retired for the night to sink into their beds, accompanied by their lovers, their children, and their dreams. Any Aesir who was still awake had the unfortunate luck of being a night guard. The silence of the night within the palace has been and always will be a constant in the Palace since the gold had been placed where the floor would soon be.

With one, and only one, exception.

Prince Loki, the younger of the heirs of Asgard, walked quickly through the golden halls, boots clicking loudly throughout an otherwise silent night. His green eyes staring straight ahead, his midnight black hair swept behind his shoulders. The night guards merely sighed, for this was no abnormality, and had not been since the young prince was old enough to walk. Had it been, they may have noticed the urgency in the man's steps.

Prince Loki had never followed the unspoken rules of the land. He practiced magic, he read more than fought, he kept odd hours. Every citizen found it strange, but had long ago accepted these things as yet another oddity of the strange little Aesir.

They may have found it made more sense had they known he wasn't Aesir at all.

The prince turned the corner, and the guards in the hall turned back to staring monotonously at the wall, in faith that the guards in the next hall would watch over the prince. Had they been looking, they would have seen what looked like a massive pair shadows in the shape of wings in the flickering torch light.

When asked during a conversation the next day, the guards in the next hall claimed they had never seen the prince that night at all.

On Midgard, Loki stood at the top of what humans refer to as Mount Everest, gazing at the landscape below him, the full moon directly above his head. After a few moments, he reached into his ear and pulled out a previously unnoticed ivory earpiece, akin to the humans' "Bluetooth". He placed the earpiece on the ground. His green eyes flashed gold, and from the earpiece rose a tall man with short dark hair, pale skin and silver eyes, a biker jacket wrapped around him in an attempt to keep him warm against the biting wind.

"Really? I know you don't mind the cold, but some of us do!"

Loki sighed, used to this argument. It was always something. 'It's too warm', 'It's too wet', 'It's too dry', 'oh my god why are you holding me above a volcano'. There was just no pleasing him. Nevertheless, he snapped his fingers to shield him companion from the wind, and turned to speak to him, a sad look in his eyes.

"Please tell me I'm wrong, please tell me there's another way."

His companion looked at him in pity, knowing that his entire life was about to be shaken to its foundation.

"I'm sorry boss, but you know I can't lie. The only way to stop him from going down that path is to beat him to it. I wish there was something you could do."

Loki allowed his head to fall against his chest in defeat.

"I wish it didn't have to end this way."

"Neither did I, boss. But you know a hero is only as good as his villain."

Loki raised his head, a bitter smile on his face.

"Do I ever."

The two men stood in compatible silence, staring at the horizon until it turned from blue to orange, and Prince Loki stood alone as he always seemed to be. He picked up the ivory earpiece in the snow, returning it to his ear. He turned his golden gaze to the horizon once more, but this time, he did not see a rising sun. This time, he saw an icy room with a tyrant sitting upon an icy throne, and the previously somber man smirked with mischief in his eyes.

"Well hello daddy dearest. I'm about to fuck you up."

AN: Here's the rewrite of the prologue! What do you think? Better? Worse? Review and let me know!


	2. If a Martyr Wouldn't Work

**SIX MONTHS LATER**

To some, it was an eternity between the final time Prince Loki's boots clacked against the golden halls of Asgard and the first time his converse caused the wooden floors to creak as he walked into the Ninth Rock From The Sun- the best damn bar on Pluto, in the former princes humble opinion. To Loki, or Gabriel, as he had decided to be called once again, it was barely a blink.

It had been almost six months since he pretended to attempt genocide and faked his death, all in the name of a blond dumbass who had somehow managed to worm his way into Gabriel's gold plated heart. Not that he hadn't planned to fake his death anyway, but that was much more complex than he thought it would be. But no matter. His plans had remained uninhibited.

Gabriel had been in hiding for 1,000 years. No one would be searching for him anymore. He could finally make his move.

He had been plotting to take over Heaven since this vessel had been a but a babe, unable to move in any coordinated fashion. Not that he really wanted to rule, but he was an Archangel; the Angels were his family, his younger siblings. It was his job to do what was best for them, even if personally he didn't exactly fancy sitting on his ass on a golden throne and listening to the whole universe bitch all day. The Angels were suffering under Michael. He could hear their screams whenever the noises of his surrounding weren't enough to drown it out. He couldn't just leave them, but he couldn't be rash either. So, he had bided his time, he had been patient. Michael and Raphael would never know what hit them.

Gabriel sat at the bar next to a pair of barflies who were deep in a complaining session about whoever had pissed them off. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man dressed in black assess him, no doubt surveying the gold zipper on his leather jacket, gold wing ring on the middle finger of his left hand, gold threads in his braid, and the soft white feather on the cord around his neck. The man was obviously trying to determine if the gold was real, and if he was someone worth robbing.

If that same man was robbed at gunpoint immediately after leaving the bar, losing everything and being caught and jailed by the Nova Corps later that evening by anonymous tip, well. Shit happens.

Gabriel put the red can of spray paint on the counter and turned toward the bartender with a charming smile.

"Good evening madam. I can't seem to decide tonight, what would you recommend?"

The bartender grinned flirtatiously, flipping her green hair behind her shoulders and flashing her silver irises from behind her eyelashes.

"Whiskey. Terran drink. Kind of matches your eyes."

"Bartender knows best."

She handed him a whiskey, the glass passing from a purple hand to a pale one. He thanked her, tipped her a rather large amount, and kindly declined her offer of a number. He settled in for a while, deciding to savor the whiskey for a while before moving on to continue being a trickster while waiting for the big day.

"-gotten worse, Kendra. Asgard will be ruined under his rule."

"You'd think after that bastard of an Aesir went and killed himself, he'd clean up his act, but no, he's worse then ever."

"Apparently he's trying to blame the Jotun for Loki's death. Fool. He'll kill us all if he destroys Jotunheim."

Gabriel nearly dropped his glass. What the hell was that idiot thinking?! He was supposed to be humbled, not worsened! He couldn't leave him be to destroy the universe.

He couldn't let him become Lucifer.

If that's how Thor wanted to play it, then very well.

If a martyr wouldn't work, then a ghost would do.

The big day would have to wait.

 **~O0O~**

Steve Rogers wasn't really enjoying life at the moment. He was alone in the future, with all this ridiculous and confusing technology. SHIELD wouldn't leave him alone, breathing down his neck all the time. He couldn't seem to connect with anyone new, his trauma from the war and his ignorance of the new social norm becoming a barrier that efficiently destroyed all chances of making new connections, a new life here in this ridiculous and bizarre world that he found himself in. Not even Samandriel was answering his prayers.

Samandriel had been Steves guardian angel. He had helped him through the war, and he had provided a shoulder to cry on when Bucky fell off the train. When his plane was crashing, Samandriel had appeared to him one final time, telling him that this was not the end of him, that Heaven, and Earth, would need him one again. Next thing he knew, it was 2011, 70 years had passed, and almost everything he knew was gone.

Steve dragged his feet into the cabin SHIELD gave him to live in for a while, letting his jacket fall to the floor haphazardly, nudging the door closed with his foot. After flipping on the light, he began to slowly make his way to the kitchen with the hot chocolate mix he'd gotten from the store. It was nothing compared to his mother's, which was the best he'd ever had, but he always had hot chocolate in the winter and being frozen in ice for 70 years wasn't gonna stop him now, even when the mere thought of going outside and facing the foreign world gave him a sense of dread he'd only previously felt when his plane was crashing.

"Well, aren't you down on your luck."

Steve whirled around from the doorway the the kitchen to see a strange man on his couch that he was certain hadn't been there before. He had midnight black hair that was tied in a braid over his right shoulder with golden threads running through it. His eyes were the color of sunlight passing through a glass of whiskey. He was pale, with cheekbones that looked like they were sharp enough to kill a man. He was wearing a black leather jacket with golden zippers with a green shirt underneath, a white feather necklace, black jeans, and- what were the name of those shoes, converse?- that looked like they were made of molten gold. But it wasn't his appearance that made Steve stop in his tracks.

It was the fact that he could be felt from all the way across the room, and it was a very specific feeling that he could never forget.

The man on his couch was not a man at all, but an Angel. And by the feel of him, he was far more powerful than Samandriel had ever been.

"Oh, you were one of Samandriel's, weren't you? Well, you are correct, in broad terms, I am in fact an Angel. Samandriel may have spoken about me. Does the name Gabriel ring any bells?"

There was a supposedly dead Archangel in his living room. He was sitting on his couch.

 _There was an Archangel sitting on his couch._

"Woah woah woah, don't freak out! Yes, I am an Archangel, but I'm not going to hurt you. I came here to ask for your help, and if you do I'll give you what you need the most in return. Will you allow me to explain the situation?"

"Angels don't usually offer anything in return."

"I, unlike most of my siblings, am not an ungrateful piece of shit who expects you to drop everything to help me just because of who and what I am and then just leave you with the consequences. Besides, while I am indeed an Archangel, I'm also a Trickster, and we believe in just deserts. That's not always a bad thing. I also understand that you and I have very different perspectives of the universe. To me, a 85 years is nothing, but to a human, even an enhanced one, it's your life. What I'm about to ask you to do is dangerous, it will more than likely put your life at risk. If you risk your life for me, you will get something very valuable in return."

Steve, shocked at hearing an Archangel curse, managed to gather enough of himself to nod. The Archangel smiled and patted the cushion beside him in a clear invitation to sit down, which Steve was pretty sure would be considered scandalous in Heaven: their most beloved ruler lowering himself to sit next to a mere human.

When Steve sat down, he realized that the couch looked cleaner than he'd ever seen it. The Archangel- "Gabriel, cap, no need for all the formality. Any friend of Driel's is a friend of mine."- handed him a cup of what appeared to be hot chocolate. He almost spilled it when he took a cautious sip and discovered that it tasted exactly like his mother's.

"So, what's happening?"

"It'll make more sense if I start at the beginning instead of just skipping to the chapter we're on."

"Are you going to tell me the entire story of the universe?"

Gabriel gave him a deadpan look.

"Yes, Captain. You see, in the beginning there was this deadbeat dad- fuck no! For one, I wasn't even _there_ for that part, I didn't come around until waaaaaay later, and two, if I decided to tell you the entire story of creation we'd be here for years. You think the Bible's long? That's only the cliffnotes! The badly, _badly_ translated cliffnotes that only pertain to like 300 years of the _billions_ of years that this universe has existed. _Father_ there is so much wrong information in that book… but I digress. This situation is only going to make sense if i start at when and why I faked my death. It's a longer story, but you'll walk away understanding more than if i gave you the short version. Okay?"

Steve, who was quite taken aback at the tangent that has come from the _very_ powerful being who was _sitting on his couch_ , simply nodded dumbly.

"Great! Well, first off, contrary to popular belief, reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated, as I'm sure you can see. In reality, I've spent the past 3,000 years hiding from Michael and Raphael, who tried to kill me to gain political power until they believed they'd succeeded. After Lucifer fell and Dad never came back from the store, he made a rule that said that if we- the Archangels, that is- wanted to make a new law, all three of us would have to agree. Michael and Raphael wanted to subjugate the angels and turn them into obedient little soldier slaves, which was an idea I wasn't exactly a fan of. Eventually they sent an assassin after me so they could have complete control over Heaven. I suspect what they've done is why Samandriel hasn't answered you.

"Around 1,000 years ago I managed to give the assassin the slip and fake my death. Since then I've been biding my time to take back Heaven. Have you ever heard of Loki? The Norse god? That's me. My own private, temporary witness protection program to keep me safe while I waited for Mikey and Raphy to drop their guard. Unfortunately, before I can take back Heaven for good, I have a problem. His name's Thor, he has been my pseudo brother for the past millennium, and he has the potential to become a second Lucifer. I need to knock him down a peg. Will you help me?"

Steve stared at the Archangel on his couch. He was trying to look nonchalant, but Steve recognized the bone deep weariness. Of someone who was oh so tired but couldn't stop fighting for even a moment to catch their breath lest it cost them everything. He had seen it on the battlefield.

"What did you mean by 'What I need the most'?"

He grinned.

"Well, you'll get a whole team of new friends out of this who've all got problems of their own. You all need each other, trust the guy who used to have lunch with the fates every week. But that's not all. You want a purpose in this strange new world where nothing makes sense? You'll get it. You want somewhere to stay where SHIELD's not breathing down your neck and watching your every move? Cross it off the list. But beyond that, there's something you need even more. You would get it eventually, but, lucky for you I'm in good with the fates. They won't mind if I put it on the fast track."

"What is it?"

Gabriel tilted his head to the side, seeming to consider how much he could say.

"I'm not sure how much I can tell you without messing everything up, but I will tell you this. Your old friends? Not all of them are gone. Not all of them are ancient history. I can't tell you who is left, but I can tell you beyond a doubt that you need them. For the sake of the timeline, I can't do much for them now. But I promise you, on my honor, on my grace, on my titles as the Archangel of Fire, The Archangel of the East, The Angel of Vengeance, The Angel of Mercy, The Angel of Truth, The Angel of Life, The Messenger of God, Guardian of the All Powerful Gems of Mind and Reality, The Norse God of Mischief, and Trickster, that the moment saving them won't end the world, if you help me, I will bring them home."

Steve nodded, understanding the reason he could not be told more.

"Okay. So, you are the Archangel Gabriel, who is also apparently Loki, the Norse god of Mischief. You are in hiding from Michael and Raphael, who are trying to kill you for political gain. You are planning to take Heaven from them because they're essentially tyrants, but before you can, you have to take care of Thor, you not really brother who's about to become the second Lucifer, and if I help you do it, I will receive friends, freedom, and the premature return of someone from my past. Did I get everything?"

"Pretty much yeah."

Steve took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and let it out slowly.

"Okay, when do we start?"

"Woah there tiger, this isn't gonna happen right away. This is still months away from happening, mainly because of how much magic and Grace this is gonna take to pull off safely and how long it's gonna take to get everything ready without attracting attention. Spring at the earliest, but probably summer. You're agreement is good enough for now. Just sit back, relax, and wait for the curtain to rise. I'll give you about a week's warning before hand, as well as disclosing the final plan one it's set in stone so you won't be caught off guard by anything. If anyone else is in on it, I'll let you know who they are."

Gabriel stood up, raising his arms above him in a stretch.

"Oh, one more thing before I go. Tony Stark? He's not his father, and he doesn't want to be. He might come off like an asshole at first, but take it from the guy who's spent the last couple centuries making sure everyone gets what's coming to them. The Merchant of Death has already paid his due, even if he doesn't yet believe it."

And with that, the Archangel left, leaving only a soft whooshing of wings in his wake. Steve's jacket was now draped over a chair instead of on the floor, looking as though it were brand new. Steve's hot chocolate was still full even though he'd been drinking out of it for the entire conversation, and when he went to set it on the coffee table he saw a note written in what looked like a gold sharpie:

 _The cup will never get dirty and it will never break. The hot chocolate will always be full and warm, even if you put it in liquid nitrogen. Consider it a gift, a thanks for hearing me out tonight._

 _Gabriel_

 _P.S: You should always remember to lock your door. I would hate for that old friend of yours to return to a gravestone because you couldn't remember such a simple thing and were killed in the middle of the night._

When Steve went for the door with the intention of doing just that, he discovered strange carvings all over the knob. He recognised a few of them, Samandriel had carved them into his shield. They were protection symbols.

And here he thought every Angel except for Samandriel was a jerk.

 **OOOOOOOOOO**

Phil Coulson was a simple man who was an open book.

At least, that's what everyone thought.

The barista at his local Starbucks adored him; he was always an enjoyable conversation partner and he always looked on the bright side of things, making even the dreariest Monday feel like the happiest Friday.

His landlord thanked god every day for him. He payed on time, he was quiet, he never raised a fuss, and was the most benevolent man in the entire apartment complex.

His elderly neighbor thought he was a darling. He always came over every Thursday to cook for her and talk to her. He was family, and she always wore the necklace he gave her, even if she couldn't clearly make out the design on it.

His coworkers considered him the calmest one in the entire agency. Phil Coulson's calm demeanor was a fantastic counter balance to Fury's… well… _furious_ one.

Fury himself thought he was the best agent he had. Even if he was a little quirky, doing strange things like carrying around a flask filled with ordinary water and a knife strapped to his thigh no matter where he went, even when most agents were happy with a gun. Fury personally chalked it down to paranoia of some kind, probably from his childhood. It wouldn't be surprising, considering his pillar-of-the-community father had drank too much one night and viciously attacking everyone in the household, Phil being the only survivor before dropping off the map for a decade, resurfacing at 23 and becoming a SHIELD agent soon afterward. Regardless of this, he was good at what he did, he was efficient, he was a godsend.

None of them thought that he could be hiding something from all of them.

Agent Phil Coulson was more than met the eye, and not even those he was closest too knew it in it's entirety. He dealt in more than secrets, he dealt in the supernatural.

Which is why, when he walked into his kitchen to see a mysterious dark haired man sitting at his kitchen table with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lollipop in the other, his first thought was not, as might be expected, _Who is he and how did he get in here_. Well, not exactly. It was actually closer to _What is it and how did it get past my wards._

The creature simply looked up at him, with a large grin on his face.

"Phil Coulson! Lovely to meet you. Don't fret, your wards are indeed intact and _very_ effective, just not, fortunately, for me. I'd have hated to have this conversation in public. Oh, where _are_ my manners! I'm Gabriel, also known as Loki, and I have a favor to ask you."

Pagan god. Damn, he didn't have anything in his apartment to kill a pagan. He was woefully outmatched here, his best chance was hear the being out and hope it left and gave him time to find a weapon to kill it. The pagan laughed.

"Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you. And even if you did have something that could kill a pagan god, it wouldn't even _hurt_ me. But I digress. I have a teensey little favor to ask. I don't want it done now, more like a couple of months in the future. And, in return, I'll tell you what really happened to your cousin Mary."

Phil's heart stopped. Mary Campbell, his cousin that was more like his sister. Mary Campbell, his childhood best friend. Mary Campbell, who dropped off the map after the mysterious death of her parents. Mary Campbell, who even SHIELD couldn't find.

"What is this _favor_?"

The god grinned.

"Oh, nothing _too_ big. I'll be doing all the work here really, all you have to do is keep up the charade."

"That doesn't tell me anything."

"Right you are. Well, I can tell that you're the kind of man who appreciates thing to be put blunt and sugar free, as horrifying as the concept of sugar free _anything_ is. So, I'll just come out and say it: I want you to fake your death."

 **OOOOOOOOOO**

 **AN: Sorry for the long wait guys, I made this chapter twice as long as I usually do as an apology. Anyway, one person mentioned that I'm writing Gabriel differently this time around, and I am. In the original, I was going with the shows route of Gabriel's character development: it's all fun and games until the shit hits the fan. This time, I'm trying to include all of his character at once, so he'll be a bit more somber at times. Also, the Prologue takes place in a really bad time for Gabriel: when he's realizing the only way to save Thor from himself and the rest of the universe from the consequences is to hurt him. He'll definitely be lightening up a bit as the story goes on. The main difference between this and the original is that this will be hitting some other plot points from before the original started. It'll be a few more chapters before we're actually at that point. As I'm sure you can tell, we're actually going to be hitting the Avengers movie this time around, so you guys can see how that plays out. Also, in case you guys didn't get it, the guy Gabriel was talking to in the prologue was Enzo. If you didn't read the original, he'll be explained later. If you did, I always intended for him to be able to take a corporal form and grace the world with his very tangible sass, I just never got the opportunity to do so. Sorry again for the wait.**

 **Reviews will be ground into sugar for Gabriel to consume at his leisure!**


	3. Then a Ghost

**AN: Sorry about the long ass wait, things have been pretty crazy lately. I was hospitalized, my boyfriend broke up with me in a really shitty way, my depression's been kicking my ass more than ever, and now my mom's pregnant with my stepsibling, My grandmother's health has taken a nose dive, and as a consequence we're moving 7 hours away to move in with her and my uncle to take care of her. I'm really sorry, but updates will probably be sporadic at best in the near future.**

 **On a lighter note, I'm looking for a beta! If you would like to help out with the process of this, and possibly a few other of my stories, send me a PM and we'll talk!**

 **Also, if you're in the Roosterteeth/Achievement Hunter fandom, I have a fic solely on . The only reason it's not up here is that there is no set category for Roosterteeth on this site, so it's easier and more effective for it to be on archive alone. So, if you're a fan of the Fake AH Crew AU, go check it out! I have the same username, Civilized_Muppets, and the fic is called** _ **You No Longer feel When Your Heart's Turned To Gold**_ **, centered around Gavin. It's the first of the** _ **Oh, How He Hated Gold**_ **series, with more on the way. So if that sounds like something that's up your alley, feel free to check it out!**

 **~O0O~**

" _What is this favor?"_

 _The god grinned._

" _Oh, nothing too big. I'll be doing all the work here really, all you have to do is keep up the charade."_

" _That doesn't tell me anything."_

" _Right you are. Well, I can tell that you're the kind of man who appreciates things to be put blunt and sugar free, as horrifying as the concept of sugar free anything is. So, I'll just come out and say it: I want you to fake your death."_

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me Philly Cheesesteak. I want you to fake your death."

Phil took a deep breath and did his damndest not to attack the being in front of him, as such would more than likely lead to his untimely demise, and he was not going to die before he found out what happened to Mary.

"Why?"

"If you were anyone else I would tease you about being specific, but I believe we've already established that you're a no nonsense kind of man. Why do I need you to do it? Because there's a pagan god who has the makings of a second Devil, and I have a plan to stop him in his tracks. The people I need for said plan, unfortunately, would never get along and successfully work as a team without something to fight for. Or rather, some _one_ to _avenge_. That's where you come in. Why does it need to be you? Because you're likable. Everyone who knows you likes you, considers themselves lucky to be their friend. Why would you agree to it? Because basically all you would need to do is charm the pants off of these people, pretend to do something toeing the line between incredibly brave and monumentally stupid, and enjoy a lovely five star cruise in the Caribbean with a laptop containing everything there is to know about the fate of Mary Campbell. Besides, I'll personally supplement your pay from SHIELD, and if you wish it, make sure the fact that you have an apartment never crosses anyone's mind so you can return home when you get back from your vacation. Oh, and the fact that over the next several months you'll get the chance to become friends with your idol. Yes, I am indeed talking about the good captain who recently got taken out of cryo."

Phil frowned.

"What do you mean by a 'second Devil'? The Devil doesn't exist."

The god smirked at him, and if Phil wasn't who he was and didn't do what he did he wouldn't have seen the aborted movement of his right hand moving upwards to grasp at something.

"Now, why ever do you think that? Just because he's not active at the moment doesn't mean he's not real."

"The Devil was an Angel before he fell, and everyone in this business knows that Angels don't exist."

The grin the god gave him was just barely bitter.

"You only think they don't exist because they've never appeared to anyone, not in the past few thousand years at least. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe they just don't give a damn? Angels are very real. And I'll let you in on a secret: most of them are complete and utter dicks."

Phil narrowed his eyes at the being across from him.

"Most of them?"

The next smile the being gave was could only be described as pure mischief. The gods eyes turned from gold to a swirling bright blue, and Phil was suddenly reminded of the fact that the being sitting at his table had introduced himself as _Gabriel_ before he had introduced himself as _Loki_.

"I don't mean to brag, but I like to think that I am at least a _little_ better than my siblings in the _decent being_ sense."

That was the moment that Phil Coulson realized just how deep of shit he was in.

"So, do we have a deal?"

How could he say no?

The being smirked, and tossed him a knife.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Agent. As a gift, that knife will take out anything lower than the Hell Court with a single blow. Oh, and I've also warded your apartment against my siblings. Have fun with that!"

With a small wave, the Archangel was gone, leaving Coulson standing in his apparently newly warded kitchen with an apparently _very_ powerful knife.

Speaking of, what the fuck was the _Hell Court_?

 **~O0O~**

Clint Barton, codename Hawkeye, was given that name for a reason. His eyes were some of the best in the world; a side effect of his almost nonexistent hearing. He was also a spy, and a damn good one. He knew when something was off, and knew what it meant.

So, when he walked into his apartment and book on the coffee table was about half a centimeter to the left of where it had been when he rushed out of the door trying to avoid being late, especially when his handler that day was _Sitwell, of all people, why did they keep handing him off to that asshole anyway_ , his bow was out and loaded in less than a second.

"Well well well, you are indeed _very_ perceptive."

And suddenly there was a man sitting in his couch with his feet up on the table with a half eaten Snickers bar in his hand. There was a knife in his forehead and an arrow pointed right between his eyes not a second later. The man simply grinned at him before reaching up and removing the knife and tossing it onto his table.

"Oh, seems like your sight isn't the only reason you're named after a hawk."

"Who are you?"

"Me? I'm the strange man eating candy on your sofa."

The archer narrowed his eyes at the, well, strange man eating candy of his sofa.

"Be a little more specific."

The man honest to god _pouted_. And then looked vaguely annoyed.

"Alright then, if you want to be a party pooper. I'm the strange man eating candy on your sofa who also happens to be a quite frankly ridiculously powerful being with a job offer for you."

"I don't freelance. I have a permanent job."

"Oh, I'm aware. This won't interfere with it. Besides, it involves knocking an asshole of an older brother down a few pegs."

That gave Clint pause. No one should have to suffer through what he had suffered from Barney. The chance to save someone from his fate… but no. SHIELD probably already knew this guy was here, he couldn't take the job.

"Well, the situation isn't exactly like yours. I'm afraid it's far too late to help the little brother, not that he'd have accepted it if you'd offered. No, the Big Brother in this situation is threatening the entire universe. And SHIELD does not know I'm here. I'm just a _tad_ above the type of things they're used to. Sorry about Sitwell by the way, I'm afraid Coulson's absence was my fault. He called off to look into some things that I may or may not have brought to light."

"You know Coulson?"

"Indeed I do. Should you accept this offer, you will be working with him."

That gave Clint pause. Whatever this was, it was serious enough that _Coulson,_ one of the most loyal to SHIELD, was apparently working outside of it.

"Feel free to call him and verify this after our conversation. If you want to, but I swear on my Grace that it's true. I am Gabriel, Archangel of Fire, Messenger of God. But please, call me Loki. Ask Coulson, he'll verify every word."

Clint lowered his bow in shock. Bullshit, there was no way, angels didn't exist. But if he was who he said he was…

"Say you're telling the truth, say you are who you say you are. What do I get for helping you? I get to live? A million dollars? What's your game?"

The "Angel"- Loki, apparently- looked visibly taken aback.

"Father, no! I'm going to kill you if you don't help me, I'm not a dick! You'd be risking your life doing what I'm about to ask of you, you have more than a right to deny me! And I can give you a million dollars, if that's what you really want. But you don't, do you?"

Clint stared at him. He knows he shouldn't get his hopes up, that he would only get hurt in the end, but… this man had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He had pulled a knife out of his forehead like it was nothing. Clint had never come across anything that could do that. Even Captain America, the pinnacle of human strength and perfection, the most invincible man on the planet, couldn't take a headshot and shrug it off. It was possible he was just a mutant SHIELD had never heard of before, but with how closely mutants are monitored, he doubted it. He'd have to confirm it with Coulson, but if this guy was really an angel...

"No, that's not what I would want. What can you do?"

Loki seemed to find this amusing.

"Buddy, I can alter reality itself, travel through time, kill pretty much anything except my older siblings with nothing more than a touch, and so much more. You name it, I can probably pull it off. If you want me to raise the dead though, that might take a while depending on who they are and whether they're in Heaven of Hell."

This guy really wasn't trying very hard to make his bullshit believable, but Clint had been in this business for a long ass time, and the guy didn't seem to be lying.

"If you're really an angel, can you change who goes to Heaven and who goes to Hell?"

Loki raised a perfect eyebrow and considered him.

"To a certain extent. It really, again, depends on who they are. If they're too important in the Grand Plan, then my siblings will likely be keeping tabs on them and notice if they don't go where they're supposed to. Who did you have in mind?"

Clint hesitated, only for a moment. She'd never forgive him if she ever found out, but if he could save her from literal Hell…

"Natasha Romanoff."

"Ah, yes, Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Currently known as Natasha Romanoff, Alias Black Widow. Born in what was then known as Stalingrad, now known as Volgograd, Russia. Victim of the Red Room, bred into a deadly assassin who would go on to kill hundreds in cold blood. At the moment she's slated for Hell. Do you want me to change it?"

Well shit, even _he_ hadn't known part of that. This guy was looking more and more legit. He nodded.

"I could probably get away with that, but I don't think that would be fair to _you_. Ms. Romanoff is destined to end up going to Heaven anyway, if she lives long enough that is. I _can_ ensure she does get to that point, but that still doesn't seem like a fair tradeoff. I might be able to help her while she's still alive."

"How so?"

"She might not let on, but she does in fact suffer from what she's done. A soul cannot be broken, but it can be damaged. I can't repair it entirely, but I can make it more manageable. Of course, I would actually need her permission to do so. Is that agreeable?"

Clint nodded.

"I need to call Coulson."

"Of course. If it's alright with you, I'll be leaving now. I put my number in your phone, it's under 'Gabriel'. Call me when you've made your decision."

And with that, Loki stood up and disappeared, the only sign he had ever been there at all a Snickers wrapper on the floor and a book that was half a centimeter to the left than it had been that morning. Clint took a moment to put himself together, before pulling out his phone and hitting the first number on his speed dial.

"Hey Phil. No no, it's fine, Sitwell wasn't as terrible as he could have been. Yes, I'm aware that's still not great-Phil let it go, I'm fine, I'm not about to fly into a murderous rage- no, you do not need to make him disappear! Overprotective much? Jesus! Yes there is a reason I called you- no goddammit I am not trying to convince you to prank call Fury again, that was one time and I didn't think you'd actually do it, I still have no idea how you lived, fuck's sake- Phil, you know I'm always happy to listen to your rants about Captain America memorabilia, but hold on a sec, the craziest shit just happened…"

 **~O0O~**

Gabriel closed his eyes. The reality gem was in one hand, the figurine Lucifer had carved him when he learned how to fly in the other. Normally he only looked at the damn thing when he was having a bad day or to remind himself to not get too cocky. But it would take months to craft an army the scale that he needed with enough detail and effort put in to make it convincing. Designing the creatures from scratch would make it take even longer. He didn't know how long he had with Thor; time was of the essence. So, unfortunately, the figurine was his only option.

This was dangerous work, there was a reason God and god alone was the Creator. One wrong move and all his hard work would be for nothing. He would have to carefully craft the creatures down to the last detail, one inaccuracy could foil his whole plan. He would have to keep them all lifeless until it was time, the longer they were conscious the greater risk there was of them developing minds of their own and becoming a force he couldn't control. This would take the utmost concentration and diligence-

 _~I know a girl who's tough but sweet!~_

 _~She's so fine she can't be beat!~_

" _Looks like it's gonna have to wait boss!"_

"Enzo, I can hear you smiling. This has to be done, stop bitching about it."

" _But I won't have anyone to talk to! Can't you just give me to someone until you're done? Like Death? Or Bobby?"_

"There's no one I like that I would be cruel enough to to sentence them to you, and there's no one I don't like that I would even trust to know about you. Sorry Enzo, you're stuck here. Now shut the fuck up, I have to take this."

He made the phone hover next to his ear, not willing to let go of either of the items in his hands, and answered.

"Hello?"

" **Loki darling, I love you, but you're terrible for business."**

"Sugar pie, Honeybunch! How's my favorite demon?"

" **Don't try and dodge it. I know what you did."**

"Lighten up Sugar. He deserved it."

" **He was about to make a deal!"**

"He would've been a weak ass demon. Besides, I've done you a favor. Now Alistair will be busy for a few days. You can slack off. You're welcome."

" **A little warning would've been nice, love."**

"Noted, Sugar. Now if you don't mind, I was kindof in the middle of something."

" **Are you cheating on me?~"**

"Never, cupcake, I'm just crafting a fake alien army to attack New York in a few months."

" **Fine then darling, don't tell me yet. Have fun."**

"You too, Honey bear!"

Gabriel smirked at the black screen. Crowley would be in for a shock when he realized that he hadn't been joking. He was sure he'd pay for it later, but it was going to be hilarious.

" _You two were made for each other."_

"Ha fucking ha, Enzo. You're not distracting me from this. Now, where was I…"

 **~O0O~**

 **AN: That's a wrap! Hopefully I'll be back soon, but with how hectic life is at the moment, I can unfortunately make no promises. The only reason I was able to get this done is that it was already half written months ago. I'll do my damndest to get the next chapter up asap though.**

 **Reviews are always more than welcome!**

 **~Liza**


	4. Will Have To Do

JARVIS was far more than anyone gave him credit for. Tony Stark, his father, constantly lamented how everyone treated him. He seemed to take it as a personal insult whenever anyone dared to suggest his greatest AI was nothing more than a computer.

JARVIS supposed his father's ire was understandable. Even if you disregarded the fact that JARVIS was Tony's son, he had not been created for that reason. No, JARVIS was created in a bought of grief caused by the death of his grandfather, Edwin Jarvis (No, Howard Stark was not his grandfather, he was his father's sperm donor, nothing more). JARVIS was a product of Tony Stark doing his absolute damndest to immortalize the greatest man he had ever known by making sure his name never left the history books. JARVIS was the product of the complete, devouring grief of a genius. JARVIS was Tony Stark's best attempt to thank the man who had raised him in a way he had never been able to in life. Edwin Jarvis may never leave SHIELD's classified files and the memories of those he was closest to, but Tony had made sure the world would never forget his name.

Even his father had not predicted just how… human JARVIS would eventually become. JARVIS was intended to be the world's first great AI, an unprecedented accomplishment that would make history and never leave it. But, the longer JARVIS was online, the more human-like he became. Even the great Tony Stark couldn't program human emotions, especially not in 1993. He could program mannerisms, things that would give JARVIS every pretense of having emotions, but he could not turn happiness into a few lines of code. That was something JARVIS developed on his own. Neither he nor his father realized what had happened until someone his father brought home for the night had snuck into the lab while Tony was passed out drunk. She looked around for a while, before her eyes landed on what would later become the first generation Starkphone. She grinned like the cat that caught the canary, grabbed it, and made her way out the door. DUM-E, in a rare show of profound coordination, managed to pickpocket her before she left. She was unsuccessful in her attempts to harm Tony. Protocol decreed that her name should be put on the Blacklist of People Who Should Never Be Trusted, but be otherwise left alone.

But, for the first time in his entire existence, JARVIS did not want to follow protocol.

Tony had nearly driven himself to the grave working on that thing, He had skipped meals, he had skipped showers, he had stayed awake for an entire week, running only off of coffee and spite, until he had finally passed out from exhaustion far too close to his welder for JARVIS's liking.

And that bitch had almost walked out the door with it, almost singlehandedly made all of Tony's effort and JARVIS's worry for nothing.

He wanted her to _pay_.

Between the time she walked out the door and around 4 hours later when his father had finally dragged himself out of his bed and stumbled toward the coffee machine to try and get rid of his hangover, the woman's reputation was ruined, she had lost her job, her fortune had been almost entirely depleted, and there were multiple warrants out for her arrest. Turns out Little Miss Honeypot hadn't been paying her taxes.

His father had been more confused and worried than anything. Protocol on what to do in that situation was clear, and his interface had not been damaged in any way. JARVIS, while technically having the ability to go against protocol, should not have had a _reason_ too. JARVIS wasn't completely sure why he had done it either. He just needed her to _pay_.

When he told his father this, the man before him had gone quiet for a long time, before tentatively telling him it sounded like he had been _angry_. JARVIS almost laughed, but he realized that Tony was right. What he had experienced did, in fact, sound like anger.

After that incident, his father had asked him all sorts of questions and performed all sorts of tests, until it was undeniable: JARVIS had somehow, maybe through Tony treating him like he did, maybe as a consequence of his existence, developed human emotions. They weren't sure exactly when, or even if there was a definite moment as they could have been developed over time, but JARVIS might as well be a member of the human race at this point.

Of course, Tony had never told the greater community about this. The uproar it would cause, whether from people protesting the act of "Playing God" (regardless of however unintentional the development had been) or from people scrambling to steal his secrets, would be immense. They both decided it wasn't worth the risk. His father had avoided telling even Mr. Stane and Colonel Rhodes, because as much as he loved and trusted them, he didn't want to worry about them wanting to put JARVIS into weapons. Later, JARVIS would be very, very glad they had never told Mr. Stane.

Ms. Potts was a rather… Unique case. They weren't sure whether she knew or not. She did indeed treat JARVIS as though he were a person, but neither he nor his father were entirely sure whether or not she was just following Tony's example.

His father never liked it when JARVIS was treated as a tool, but he could forgive the general populous as long as they weren't unkind. They knew no better after all.

It was those that _were_ unkind, that his father would never forgive.

The businessman who had muttered "useless lump of wires" under his breath after JARVIS had denied him access to Tony's office before his father was ready to see him was ruined in a month.

The actress who called him a "heartless mechanical bastard" after he refused to patch her through to his father after their one night stand found herself on Hollywood's blacklist a week later.

The hacker who tried to hack him was, perhaps, the worst off. Tony viewed hacking him as akin to raping him. While JARVIS (thankfully) did not have enough information to know whether or not it was an accurate comparison. The experience was however… violating. Unnerving. He no longer felt safe in his own servers.

His father, upon being informed of the incident, displayed an emotion that JARVIS had only heard about. _Rage_.

The expression on his face was almost frightening. It would've been, actually, if it hadn't been programed into his codes from the start that his father would never hurt him no matter what, if Tony hadn't gone on drunken tangents dozens of times about how terrible Howard was, how messed up he was because of it, how he swore he would never raise a hand against JARVIS, never at all.

His father swiftly strengthened his defences to be stronger than the Pentagon's, and made sure to check on them and improve them anytime he could every week, no matter how busy he was.

And the hacker?

Well.

He had an accident.

Freak elevator incident. Tragic, truly. At least he was the only one in there at the time.

To say his father was protective over him was a massive understatement. But, if JARVIS was being honest with himself, he wasn't really that much better.

People who crossed Tony Stark faced increasing difficulties all the time, be it bank account issues to their technology constantly faced malfunctions. Those who committed larger transgressions found themselves ruined beyond repair.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, after all.

He and his father loved each other very much. They were often all the other truly had. They would both go to what should probably be considered obscene lengths to protect each other- or improve the other's life.

Which is why, when the mysterious man appeared in the workshop, healed the cuts on his father's back (which he had sustained from a battle earlier that week as Iron Man), and addressed JARVIS as 'Young Mr. Stark', the AI was listening.

"Young Mr. Stark, I have a proposition for you. Your father needs people to rely on, correct? I may be able to help with that."

"Forgive me, but you are?"

"Of course, where are my manners. Gabriel di Angelo, at your service, Mr. Stark. Please, call me Gabriel."

"As you wish, Gabriel. What is your proposition?"

"My older brother is… misguided. I fear what he will do if left unchecked. You may have heard of him- Does the name Thor Odinson ring a bell?"

"The one who crashed into New Mexico last year?"

"Yes, that's the one. I'm sure you understand my concern then?"

"Indeed I do."

"Excellent. Well, in order to fix this, I'm staging an invasion. An alien invasion. No innocent will be harmed, I assure you. It may not seem like it, but this is the safest way to do it. I have all the data explaining the situation on a hard drive, if you'd prefer."

"I would. As long as I can scan it before I upload it."

"But of course."

After checking that the drive was safe before he uploaded it, he did indeed agree that this was the safest option, both to attract as little attention as possible from heaven, but to drive the lesson into Mr. Odinson's skull. And with how powerful the man in front of him was, he could definitely assure the safety of innocents and, more importantly, his creator.

It occurred to him, for the first time during this encounter, to wonder why his emergency protocol hadn't gone off and he hadn't registered the amount of danger his father was in until this exact moment.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I couldn't risk this getting out, so I made sure you were calm until now. I swear on my father, on my position as the Archangel of Fire and the East, the Angel of Vengeance, Mercy, Truth, and Life, The Messenger of God, Guardian of the All Powerful Gems of Mind and Reality, The Norse God of Mischief and Trickster, that I have completely removed my influence from you, and that I mean no ill will toward you and your father, and I will not harm either of you under any circumstances, even if you attack me."

According to the energy fluctuations in the room, a swear like that was binding in more ways then the law.

"Alright then. What's your plan?"

The Archangel smirked.

"Well, my dear computerized friend, Here's how it's gonna start…"

 **AN: I know it's shorter than you were probably expecting, but the flow of the chapter ended here, and I hate in chapter time skips. Life is still batshit, so I'll do my damndest to update again as soon as possible!**


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